Epilogue

The gossipers were out in full force on Tuesday when we reopened the shop and once again people brought food and wanted to hear what happened. I ended up going to the back and working on inventory in my office.

I’ll be honest, I had no business being at work. I was going through the motions, but I was still in shock. George nudged my hand and I decided some fresh air would do us both some good.

After grabbing his leash, we headed outside, and then I promptly returned for my sweater. The November air was crisper than usual. Nothing like a Chicago winter, but the chill helped clear away the cobwebs in my brain.

We made it to the tree where I’d found the body, and I shivered. Never. I never wanted to see something like that again.

“Ainsley,” it was Michael and Shannon. “Are you okay?” Shannon asked.

People had been asking me that a lot. And I’d say fine, but I wasn’t. “I’m getting there,” I said. “How about you guys?”

“We just came from the police station,” Michael said. “They had some questions about, well, you know. I—I can’t thank you enough. Everything you did for me, and then, what he put you through. Can you forgive me?” There was a deep gruffness in his voice.

“What? There’s nothing to forgive. All you did was trust someone to have your back.” I put a hand on his arm. “I love the both of you like family. I’d do anything for you. And his actions have nothing to do with you. He was tricking us all. Do you know why he did it?”

“Your brother wouldn’t tell us anything. Said it was an ongoing investigation, just that Michael was in the clear and Danny made a full confession.”

I nodded. “You did not hear it from me, but the murder started out as an accident,” I told them. “They were arguing over your business. I don’t know all the details, but neither one of them had your best interests at heart. Danny was trying to trick you. He was up for some sort of promotion and it wasn’t about investing, it was acquiring. They were both trying to buy your winery, not just invest. I guess the upside to all of this, is whatever you’re doing is working. Everyone seems to want a piece.”

Shannon blew out a breath. “Are there any good people left in the world?”

I smiled. “You guys.”

“And you,” she said.

“So what about the widow and the sister?” Michael asked.

“Well, that’s a whole different story. Turns out the widow forged the husband’s signature on several life insurances policies. And if Danny hadn’t killed Rick Dean, he probably didn’t have many days left. They found cyanide in her house. She and her sister will be going to jail for fraud, probably for a long time. The widow was the one who tried to run me down. She was worried I’d put two and two together. Her tires were a match. The sister wasn’t pregnant—they had their wires crossed on who was going to claim the body. The sister thought the widow had already left. It was a big mess they tried to cover.”

“Wow.” Shannon reached out and pulled me into a hug. “But I don’t understand why Danny went after you. I mean, we were all writing things on the murder board. Did he leave those notes?”

I nodded. “There was something about him from the very beginning. He knew I was asking a lot of questions. When he was at the shop, he saw the board. I guess he panicked and thought if he scared me, I might stop.”

“But you didn’t, and you almost got yourself killed.” I jumped as that voice had come from behind me.

I turned to find Jake smiling.

Even with a black eye and bandage around his head, he was glorious.

“I was coming to see you at the hospital later,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

He gave me that Jake shrug. “They let me out last night. I wanted to check on you and, um, George to see how you’re doing. I’m surprised you’re back at work. I stopped by the house first.”

George had moved away from me to love on Jake. I didn’t blame him.

“I couldn’t sit at home; I needed to keep busy.” It was true. Even though my house was back in order, and I was no longer afraid to be there, I found myself needing to be around people. Or, at least in close proximity. I hadn’t planned on half the town showing up to ask me questions.

I didn’t mind sharing with these guys, as they’d all been involved as deeply as I had. But I wasn’t about to tell the story over and over.

“I’d ask if you’re okay, but everyone keeps asking me that and it gets annoying.”

Shannon and Michael laughed behind me.

“It does. Why don’t you guys come back to the store with me? I have enough food to feed the four of us for months, possibly years.”

“I can always eat,” Jake said.

“Me too,” Michael said.

Shannon and I shared a look. It was this sort of thing I needed. Just hanging out with my friends. Someday I wouldn’t wake up with nightmares about being attacked.

Someday.

I had to trust that.

This town, and the people here, well they were my world now.

And there was no place I’d rather be.

The End If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review at your favorite online retailer! Even if it’s just a sentence or two it makes all the difference.

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“George Clooney, if you don’t get in here right now, I’m never speaking to you again.” My throat was raw, and my head hurt, but I refused to give up. This was a big day at Bless Your Art, and I had to get there fast.

Unfortunately, George’s new friend Mr. Squirrel was running back and forth across the fence line, driving him mad. “No more treats—ever—if you don’t come inside right now.” George stopped his incessant barking. He looked at me, and then at the squirrel, and then promptly trotted back into the house.

“Amazing what the word treat can do for a certain Great Dane.”

He sat, and then stared at me expectantly, as I opened the jar on the counter and pulled out a large chew for him. Gently, he took it into his mouth and gave me a weird smile around it that might be scary to some people, but for me, it was nothing short of heart melting.

After running upstairs to change into dark jeans, my favorite boots, and a soft blue sweater, I loaded him in the car. “Do not drool on me. Today is one of our biggest days ever. If everything goes as planned, this could put us in the black for some time to come and that means more kibble and T-R-E-A-T-S for you.”

I glanced at George Clooney through the rearview mirror, and he cocked his head as if he were listening to every word. I’m pretty sure he knew exactly what I was saying.

A few minutes later I drove down Sweet River’s picturesque Main Street. I loved this Texas town with its quaint buildings and friendly people. Warmth blossomed in my chest, easing the tightness there a bit. I’d been here a year and half and it felt like home.

There was no parking left on the street and there was a double line of people all the way down to my friend Shannon’s coffee shop, all of those people waited to get into my store. “Whoohoo!” I shouted.

George woofed, as if he understood my excitement. The tight knot in my stomach loosened. And for the first time in weeks, I smiled. This might work. There’d been so much planning and the special guest, who would arrive in exactly an hour and a half, liked everything a specific way for her book signing and the classes she’d teach afterward.

But it was worth the headaches and working myself to death to see that line wrapping around the building. I parked in back and lead George through the breakroom. The store was bustling on the inside with each booth filled to the brim with crafts and artisanal items. This was my happy place. Even today with a spring cold and a headache that would kill a cow, it brought a smile to my face.

“Morning, Ainsley,” Mike, my favorite winemaker and friend, said. I’d helped him a few months ago when he was accused of murder, and ever since he’d been my right-hand man. Making sure the store was clean and always organized. He had a winery to run, and I kept telling him he didn’t need to help out so much here, but he and Shannon, who he was engaged to and about to marry, had insisted.

Today, I was more than grateful. Sleeping in had helped with the cold, even though the jack hammer continued to pound in my head. “Hey, thank you for everything. I can’t believe how organized this place looks.” With a myriad of booths selling everything from wine to yarn, to fake medieval weapons, art and antiques, the place sometimes looked a bit hodge-podge, but not today.

“No worries,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of help this morning. Everyone knew how bad you’ve been feeling, and they really pitched in.”

My little gang of rafters and artisans had become a cheery, if somewhat dysfunctional, family. With that came a lot of nosing around in my business, but it was worth it. I had a group of friends who never let me down.

“Oh, and fair warning. Mrs. Whedon has been grumbling all morning about how she’s going to give Yarn Goddess a piece of her mind.”

I rolled my eyes. I loved Mrs. Whedon, she was a curmudgeon of the highest degree, but had a heart of goodness and light under all that crustiness. The chicken soup she’d made me yesterday was the only reason I was able to get out of bed this morning.

I was about to go have some words with her when my phone rang. I waved bye to Mike and headed to the front to get George settled while I talked.

“Hi Ainsley, it’s Hillary.” The shrill voice sent the muscles tightening in my shoulders. I’d had at least thirty calls from her in the last two days. The Yarn Goddess was demanding in a way I’d never experienced before, and her assistant Hillary was the messenger. Maybe all CEOs with multi-billion-dollar businesses and best-selling books on knitting patterns, were all like this. It was our first book signing, so I wanted things to be perfect, but even I had my limits.

“Hi,” I said quietly. Is she going to ask for pink elephants and giraffe’s next? Mrs. Whedon had said that yesterday and it made me smile. “Are you guys excited about today?”

Hillary chuckled but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that we’ll be coming about an hour early. She wants to make sure everything is done exactly the way she wants.”

“Oh.” Thank goodness Mike had come in early to make sure it was all organized. They only had thirty minutes until she arrived.

“And were you able to get her special water? If it’s not exactly a No. 3 alkaline, she’ll refuse to sign anything.”

“I did. I have a case of it.”

“Great. Okay, well, we’ll see you soon. And, um, Ainsley.”

“Yes?”

“I apologize in advance,” she whispered. “She’s having one of her bad days.”

Then she hung up.

Um. Great. What did that mean?

“The crowd is winding down,” Mike said four hours later. “Finally.”

Thank goodness. Now we just had to get through the demonstrations at the community center and I could send the Yarn Goddess on her way. The woman was—a tyrant. While she was quite kind to her adoring public—and wow, did they fuss over her—behind the scenes, Ainsley was more than willing to strangle the woman.

That’s not nice. She’d brought a lot of business to the store, but it came with a price. At the last minute they had to rearrange booths to make sure she had plenty of “breathing space,” and finding her a closed tumbler for her water so that people couldn’t spread their germs. Oh, and making poor George stay with my friend Jake, because she “abhorred animals of any sort, and they didn’t belong anywhere close to her yarn.” I was ready to send her packing. Ugh. I’d never met a more disagreeable woman.

“Shannon set up coffee and desserts at the community center, and I made sure with Hillary that we have the demo table just as Yarn Goddess likes it.”

Who changes their name to Yarn Goddess? I mean, for real.

She smiled and shook hands, and even took selfies with her fans. She wore a sweater she’d knitted herself and sleek black pants, and six-inch heels. She was thin, and even pretty when she smiled with the Farah Fawcett hairdo that seemed to work for her.

And then she glanced up and gave me a death stare.

I turned away and gave Mike a tight smile. It was the best I could do. “I appreciate it.” I coughed, which was another reason I’d been working the registers at the front of the store. Yarn Goddess took in my red nose and pale complexion, and pointed a finger and just said, “Go. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

Which was fine by me, really. Alaska wasn’t really far enough away from her.

Three more hours and she’d be out of my hair.

I couldn’t wait.

Two hours later, a crowd of nearly two hundred awaited Yarn Goddess. She’d insisted on resting for two hours before taking the crowd through some of her favorite knitting patterns from her latest book.

But when she didn’t arrive on time, I sent Hillary to look for her. The young woman, whose prim suit and thick glasses gave her the appearance of a harried librarian, came back perplexed.

“I left her at the hotel to rest, but she’s not there. I’ve gone in every shop, but I can’t find her. This isn’t like her. She’s a pain in the—well—but she always shows up for her fans.”

That knot in my stomach came back and twisted so hard, it stole my breath.

“We’re going to need a plan B,” I said.

Yarn Goddess was missing.

The End.

About the Author:

Bestselling and award-winning author Candace Havens has had more than thirty novels published. She is one of the nation’s leading entertainment journalists and has interviewed countless celebrities from George Clooney to Chris Pratt. She does film reviews on Hawkeye in the Morning on 96.3 KSCS.

Visit her website at candacehavens.com.